


Vindicta Vel Mortem

by Faded_BlueEyes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Action/Adventure, Animals, Awkwardness, Blood, Bonding, Death, Falling In Love, Family, Flirting, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Kissing, M/M, Major Illness, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Tension, Travel, Wings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-18
Updated: 2013-11-18
Packaged: 2018-01-02 00:12:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1050243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faded_BlueEyes/pseuds/Faded_BlueEyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nobody ever goes into that forest. Those who foolishly do, never come out. They say that creatures born out of hell walk among the dark trees. But now, Dean has no choice; his younger brother- his only living relative- is sick, and his only chance of survival is dependent on Dean and whether he comes back with the cure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vindicta Vel Mortem

**Author's Note:**

> "Vindicta vel mortem" is Latin for 'vengeance or death'. I hope so anyway. Google translate helped with that one.  
> I do not own any of the characters.  
> Also, please go easy on me; this is my first supernatural fanfic.  
> But I hope you like it! Thanks for reading!

He remembers seeing the outline of the creature in the dark night, the fire burning behind it lighting up all its terrifying features as it stared back at Dean with disinterest, its lizard-like tongue snaking out of its mouth and licking around in almost antagonizing arrogance and smugness.

Screams sounded around him. Panic. Fear. Terror. He heard them yelling about how a creature wondered out of the forest, camouflaged by the melancholy night. But all he did was stare. 

Another yell rang out, this one familiar, and somebody ran past him causing the creature into fight mode as it inclined its two legs- just like a human- and pounced onto the oncoming hunter. He didn’t last a chance as the claws ripped through his neck and blood poured his body dropping lifelessly to the ground. “We will meet again in eighteen years, young hunter.” The creature had hissed, low and deadly. It then gave Dean one last look, its yellow eyes bright in the darkness- eyes that he was sure he would be seeing in his nightmares- before it disappeared back into the night. 

He was pulled away harshly and before he knew it thin arms were wrapped around him tightly, his mother sobbing as her fingers ran through his sandy brown hair. He couldn’t feel anything but out of instinct, his arms wrapped around his mother’s fragile body and hugged. He turned his head away from her sobs. All he could do was stare at the space where the creature had stood. 

That night his whole life turned upside down. 

That night, his family would be broken. 

That night everything would change. 

That night, John Winchester, his father, died. 

~*~

His eyes flashed open and he gasped, shooting up in his bed before he realized the nightmare was over. He ran his hand over his sweat-drenched face slowly; not again. He was tired of repeating that night, over and over and over again. It always finished the same. 

The green eyes instead turned to look out the window where the sun was starting to rise, so without a thought he got up and dressed to face the day. He placed the sword on his belt and stashed a dagger into his boot before he left his room; he would not be caught off guard, even if it was light outside. 

On his way he also grabbed a small package wrapped up in simple paper; he scowled at the wrapping, he did his best. The cottage was quiet and he knew very well that his brother would not be up for at least some time; he was not a morning person. At the thought of his brother, he smiled to himself; his younger sibling was turning 21 today, which made him exactly four years younger than Dean himself. He frowned at the thought; he was getting old, and many of his friends had nagged him to finally settle down, find himself a beautiful wife that would grace him with children and raise his family. But he couldn't do any of that yet. Not before his family was avenged. 

He stepped out into the fresh morning air and breathed in the by now, usual smell. The smell of beer, just cut down wheat and the freshly baked bread. He nodded in greeting to the people passing by, of course on first name terms, but he never bothered with formalities. He stepped through the open door, not even bothering to look weirdly at the salt spread at the threshold as he did it so often, and smiled at the woman sitting on a chair and drinking out of a wooden cup. “G’morning Pamela.” 

“Good morning, hot shot. How many will it be today?” She stood up and leaned on the tall table, shooting Dean a wink as she did. He grinned back at her; he was used to Pamela’s flirty behaviour because it was meaningless and she was perfectly fine not having a man in her life right now. He grabbed the filled little bag at his belt and poured the coins out into his hand before placing them before her. 

“I’ll have the usual.” He answered simply and watched as she picked up the freshly baked loafs of bread and started wrapping them up. 

“So, did I hear correctly that there was a gathering tonight for the young Winchester?” Pamela grinned as she handed him the loafs. She brushed her dark, brown hair back and leaned forward on her fragile arms. 

Dean frowned slightly, “I thought I mentioned it,” he murmured followed by a quick nod. “Right. Sammy’s not big on celebrations but I am sure a couple drinks with friends will be good for him.” He told her, his eyes reflexively travelling around the cottage. He had spotted that Pamela had added a few new symbols etched onto the wall in the corner and now that he focused, he could smell the animal blood. “What’s with the new decorations?” He grinned smugly and raised an eyebrow. 

She rolled her eyes at him. He always did make fun of her precautions and beliefs. “They keep out the ghouls. If you were smart, Dean Winchester, you would have them plastered all over your house. We both know trouble always comes looking for you.” She told him sternly but he noticed a hint of humour in her voice which made him smile cheekily. More like he goes looking for the trouble.

He shook his head and cleared his throat, “I need to get going.” He said, “I will see you tonight, Pam. I still have to collect a few things.” 

Pamela nodded back with a smile. “You tell Bobby that he owes me, still!” He could hear her yell behind him as he exited the cottage. A grin pulled up on his lips, Pamela did always have some crazy bets with the old man. 

Dean passed numerous cottages, stepping into Tessa’s to buy some eggs before he headed for Ellen’s pub. “About time you showed up, boy.” Ellen commented as he walked through the double doors of the bigger building. Ellen owned a bar downstairs, the most popular place in the evenings, and there were a couple of rooms upstairs where she, her daughter Jo, their family friend Bobby and Ash (who was just simply Ash) lived. Many would assume Ellen and Bobby had a thing- and once, they probably did- but these days they would deny it with a short chuckle. 

Jo, who sat at the bar with an empty plate in front of her, clicked her tongue and shook her head in disapproval. “You’re slacking, Lose-chester. Slacking.” Jo mocked her friend.  
Dean rolled his eyes as he came over to sit on the stool next to her. “Blow me, Harvelle.” He shot back with a smirk pulling up at his lips. Jo was a pretty, young woman (he wouldn’t exactly call her a lady) and definitely had many guys going for her. But when your mother is overprotective Ellen while you have more guts than a man and a mouthful of witty remarks, it tends to create some problems. But nevertheless, he would have never looked at Jo as more than a younger sister. “What’s so important you wanted me here early anyway?” He asked as Ellen poured him a small cup of beer, after all, it was still early. 

“It seems that my dear mother is great at everything but presents.” Jo grinned as Ellen scowled at her. 

“You got Sammy a present?” Dean asked instead, raising an eyebrow. 

“You seem surprised, Dean.” Ellen pointed out. “It’s as if I haven’t gotten presents for each of you each year. Let’s not forget how often you drink here for free.” She gave him a stern look and he cracked a smile. That was true. 

“Hard to argue with you, Ellen.” He replied instead as he listened to Ellen going on and on about the things she got for Sam but then decided against them. He watched through the window as the sun rose higher and before he knew it, he was on his feet. “I have to get going. Sammy will be up by now. I’ll see you tonight, Ellen.” He gave Ellen his usual charming grin. He then turned to Jo and scowled, “I’ll see you soon, kid.” Jo scowled at the nickname but before he could get punched in the shoulder he was already half way to the door, smiling softly to himself. 

“Good morning, Sasquatch.” He exclaimed at the half-asleep Sam who entered the kitchen still half dressed. Although Sam was four years younger, he exceeded Dean in his height slightly and definitely had slightly broader shoulders. He was overgrown for his age, really. But Dean didn’t mind; it was fun to make fun of him for that. Sam scowled at him and begun opening the promptly packed bread and eggs while Dean prepared the fire. “You’re really not a morning person, are you, Sammy?” Dean teased again. 

“Sam.” Sam reminded him with a roll of his eyes. It was the usual conversation, he acted like he was annoyed but the truth was he really didn’t mind the nickname. “And no, Dean. Perhaps you have perfectly calm nights, but some of us have to hear the noises made by the girls you bring home with you.” Dean grinned at that; he didn’t have to settle, but nobody said anything about not having some fun. But then as he turned around, he frowned. His nights were nowhere near perfect or calm. 

After breakfast they sat at the table, talking about the upcoming events of the day when Dean handed Sam the badly wrapped package. “Happy birthday, Sammy.” He said and watched as Sam’s eyes lit up. He could pretend he didn’t like presents but Dean knew better. 

Sam’s eyes widened at the new book. Dean smiled to himself; he had brought it off a travelling merchant some time ago and held onto it for now. His brother was smart, very smart. And Dean had no doubt that one day; Sam would be leading their village instead of Rufus. “Dean, you really didn’t have to.” Sam spoke up and looked up at his older brother. The older Winchester shrugged and gave him a small smile; it really was no trouble. Money was no trouble. Sure, they lived alone and had to fend for themselves but Dean was a much respected hunter in the village, and he was good at what he did so selling the animals he hunted down was profitable and easy. 

After another small bickering about the events of the day and the little gathering they were supposed to have at the pub, Dean left to go hunting. Him, Jo and Balthazar had met by the village gate and set off. They stalked through the terrain but the one place which always seemed to draw Dean to it was the dark forest, not too far from their village. Of course, he was no fool; he would never go into it. “They say things straight from hell walk among the darkness there.” Balthazar had once stated; he was a real gossip. Of course, all the gossip about that place could only be made up. Nobody ever came back out to share their adventures with the others. And nevertheless, Dean believed it. 

It was eighteen years ago when a creature lurked out of the forest and attacked their village. He doesn’t remember much of what happened that day, he was only 7 after all, but he knows a whole lot from people talking about it. The creature was found inside their own house. They say he was trying to take Sammy with him, to either eat him or turn him into a creature of darkness. Fortunately, his mother had startled the creature and from then on, havoc erupted. The creature set fire to a barn and attacked the innocent villagers. The hunters were prepared to meet it, but they weren’t strong enough against the creature from hell. Many died that night. Including his own father. 

John Winchester was the greatest hunter in their village; something Dean inherited after him. And while others failed, John managed to at least seriously wound the creature before its thin, scaly tail that ended with a sharp spike had pierced through his shoulder. Nobody was at the scene when it happened, nobody knows what startled the creature; but it ran. It ran back into the forest, leaving blood, tears and mourning behind it. And John Winchester was still alive. That is, until later that night when he came down with a fever and they understood that through the contact, the creature had poisoned him. He died before dawn came. And as much as Mary- his wife- had loved both of her boys, she only managed to live another 3 years or so before the grief was too much, and she herself died peacefully in her sleep. 

Dean only remembers seeing the creature’s yellow eyes in the dark. The way its tongue darted to lick at its thin lips and the promise that they would meet again. But another outcome was much more terrifying. Since that day, Sammy carried a small scar on his shoulder blade and it scared Dean to think what the creature had done to him- what it would have done. 

Dean vowed to himself that one day, when he was sure Sammy would be able to cope on his own; he would march into that forest and seek his revenge on the creature that destroyed his family. “Winchester! Focus, will you?” Jo whispered next to him and nudged his shoulder as they watched the birds fly into the sky. A few arrows went flying and the animals crashed to the ground, their dark wings spread out on the dark field. 

~*~

“Come on, lad! You’ve had us waiting for long enough! Pick a woman and start that ginormous family of yours already!” Balthazar exclaimed as laughs echoed around the pub and they clicked their cups together as Sam blushed lightly and looked away, his eyes scanning the crowd before they settled on a girl sitting further away from the group. 

Dean followed his eyes and grinned; his little brother was definitely smitten with the lady and if he was correct, that was Jessica that Sammy was ogling. Guess he already picked.  


Ellen had already handed her gift to Sam, which he definitely enjoyed as it was more books followed by some custom clothes which would definitely fit his freakish size. Bobby had also come down, for once joining into the party and handing Sam a present while murmuring, ‘Happy Birthday, idjit’. It was a coat made from fine fur- boar if Dean was correct- and it seemed right for a gift like this to be from Bobby, since he was an expert hunter himself. After all, he had taught Dean most of what he knows. 

After the hunt, Dean was in no mood to party, like he usually would be. Today marked the 18th year after his father had died. It shouldn’t bother him so much after such a long time, but there was nothing he could do. The vision of the yellow eyed creature was still on his mind. They called it a demon. Come to think of it, Dean has only ever truly seen one creature lurk out of the dark forest. His eyes narrowed; perhaps two, but the second was purely a coincidence and to this day he was not sure what it was. He saw a pair of black wings spiralling through the sky before disappearing between the vast trees. He could always dismiss it as a bird, but from what he could see it was definitely too large to be just a bird. 

Dean wasn’t the first to notice; he was deep in his thoughts. Sam choked on the drink he was holding and the cup slipped out of his hand, crashing and spilling onto the floor. Laughs erupted, realising the young Winchester did not hold his alcohol well as he sank to his knees and started coughing and gagging. But Dean knew better. It was then that Sam started coughing up blood and everybody instantly quietened for a short second before the pub erupted into yells again. Dean was already by his brother’s side, lifting him up as much as he could with the help of Balthazar and Bobby. 

And as Dean watched his brother thrash around on the bed, coughing up blood into a bucket every few seconds, he realized that the day had come. Pamela was summoned immediately. Many made fun of her abilities and talents but when it came to it, she was the only hope. “Pam, help him, please.” Dean begged as soon as she rushed through the door with a few things in her hands. 

Instead of answering his pleads she handed him a small vial. “Give him this.” She ordered and Dean nodded without a hesitation. Whatever it was it didn’t help though. Pamela tried mixing her herbs with some mixture before smearing some on Sam’s face and skin; but that didn’t help either. He was burning up quickly, coughing violently and as Dean watched, his eyes started getting droopier and droopier. After that, she ordered everybody out the room; even Dean. 

Dean paced outside of Sammy’s bedroom while Ellen and Tessa tried to comfort him, telling him that his little brother, his little Sammy, would be alright. Jessica sat patiently leaned on the wall, biting the edges of her nails while Jo stood still and stared blankly at the closed door. Bobby was also perched by the door, trying to listen in while Balthazar was sat on the floor with his face placed nervously in his hands.

When Pamela opened the door, Dean rushed forward but was stopped before he could get in. “Nothing will help.” Pamela told him sadly. “Dean, he’s dying.” A good thing about Pamela was that she never withheld any information which was true and needed. “It’s not normal. This isn’t some random sickness.” She shook her head and closed the door behind her, leaning on it and restricting anybody from entering. “It’s…supernatural.” She concluded. 

“How do I help him?” Dean managed to whimper out. 

Pamela shook her head, “I’m not sure that you can.”

“There must be something!” He yelled in outrage. “You’re telling me, that my little brother is dying in there and there is nothing I can do?” He exclaimed again, pointing at the closed door as his body started shaking. He couldn’t lose Sammy. Sammy was the only person he had left. 

Pamela sighed and stayed silent for a while before licking her lip and looking up at Dean again. “I know a person who might be able to help.” She told him. 

“Who is it and where do I find them?” Dean asked quickly, hearing the sounds of his brother being sick from behind the door. 

“Her name is Missouri. From what I hear, she’s a witch. She can do things other people can’t.” Pamela went on to explain. Dean didn’t have the time to scoff in disbelief or mockery. If that woman knew how to save his brother, he was willing to give her a try. ”But Dean, she lives so far away…” Pamela trailed off sadly. “With such a long distance, even if you did manage to get a cure for Sam, I’m not sure if it wouldn’t be too late.” 

“I’ll do it.” Dean insisted firmly. But then considered. “Is there a shortcut?”

Pamela turned to look at Bobby who scowled at her. “Don’t you dare say it.” Bobby almost growled at the woman who sighed and turned to Dean again.  
“The forest. She lives on the other side. It would take you half the time if not less going right through the middle instead of going around.” Pamela informed him and goose bumps instantly rose on Dean’s skin. 

His heart might have literally stopped. If he chose to go in, there were very small- or none at all- chances that he would come back. Going through that forest once would be bad enough, but he would have to cross it on the way there and back. Pamela opened the door and he sneaked a look in at Sammy on the bed, half of his body extending over the floor where he heaved into the bucket. His heart leapt again; he couldn’t let his little brother die. 

Sammy was the only family he had left. He promised their mother- a mere week before her death- that he would take care of him. He promised he would keep Sammy safe. He promised he would stand by his side as his brother grew up to be the amazing person he truly was. And he always kept his promises. 

He turned to look at Balthazar,” Prepare the weapons.” He told him blankly before turning to Ellen, “I would appreciate it if you could put together a little survival package; food, water- the basics.” 

“Dean, you’re insane!” Jo perked up, standing up straight, her posture ready to collide with him on this even though she was at least a head shorter than him. 

“She’s right, boy. We can find another way.” Bobby immediately joined in. 

But Dean kept his gaze on Ellen. “You know I have to do this.” Dean’s voice quietened as she stared at him with no expression on her face. “You would do the same thing if this was Jo. If your daughter, your only family member, was dying right in front of you don’t you tell me you wouldn’t march right into that forest.” He spoke with passion, his throat closing up as Ellen’s face softened. 

She gave a small nod, so small he might have missed it if he wasn’t watching her like a hawk. “You should get some sleep before you go.” She answered quietly. 

On that, he shook his head firmly in dismissal. “Nonsense.” He said and turned to look out the window,” The sky is already brightening. I will leave as soon as I can.” He spoke instead and sighed as he walked towards the room. “Just let me talk to Sammy.” He murmured as Pamela nodded and let him through. He closed the door behind him slowly and took in a deep breath. 

His eyes raked over his brother’s miserable looks and he felt his throat closing up again, rendering him unable to speak. Instead, Sam looked up at him. “Dean, don’t do it.” He croaked out, obviously having overheard some of the conversation. 

“And let you die?” Dean snapped back. If his brother didn’t think he deserved to be saved, he would prove him wrong. “Sammy, I promised mom I would take care of you. And that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” 

Sam heaved again but then straightened and fell flat on the bed, his breathing heavy. “This is nothing, Dean; it will pass. Pamela is wrong.” Sam spoke low, his voice raw. “And you’re pushing yourself to your death on a mistaken diagnosis.” 

“Eighteen years ago, the demon who killed dad and was probably about to do the same thing to you, spoke to me.” Dean revealed and leaned on the wall, feeling like he couldn’t trust himself to get too close right now. Sam’s head turned to look at him with genuine curiosity. “He said we would meet again. Today.” He ran his fingers through his hair and started talking again before Sam managed to cut him off, “This is happening for a reason, Sammy. I’m supposed to go in that forest.” 

“Then you’re clearly delusional,” Sam snapped harshly. “You clearly know you will die.” 

“Maybe I will, maybe I won’t.” Dean shrugged slightly, trying to play it off but his breath hitched. “We’ll just have to see.” 

To that, Sam’s voice softened, “Dean, please.” He begged.

Dean gave him a forced smile and walked over to the bed, ruffling Sam’s way too long hair. “I’ll be back, Sammy. But you have to promise me to hold on.” 

Sam’s eyes- which seemed to be drooping slowly- scanned over him for one more time. Finally, they settled on his very own green orbs and Sam gulped clearly before nodding and whispering, “I promise.” 

“Besides, you should know better,” Dean took a step back and tried his best at a grin. “Saving people, hunting things- it’s the family business.” With that note, he tried to leave as fast as possible. He would see his brother again, and soon. But for now, he was wasting precious time. 

~*~

Balthazar handed him the weapons he would need, ones which would be effective against all kinds of creatures and yet wouldn’t slow him down too much. He made a remark about making sure he shot straight. 

Ellen passed him the bag which he slung over his shoulder, trusting her fully that she packed everything he would possibly need. Then she proceeded to hug him tightly and ordered him to come back (“If you don’t come back, I promise you Dean Winchester I will follow you into the afterlife and kick your ass for it.”)

Bobby had placed a heavy hand on his shoulder and gave him a tight, forced smile. Dean wasn’t sure how to react as the older hunter wished him luck and told him to be safe (“Don’t do anything stupid, you idjit.”); the words sounded like a goodbye. Dean had also exchanged a small nod and smile with Jessica, her big hopeful eyes looking up at him. 

Pamela was always the original; she hugged him tight and gave him a firm squeeze on his behind (“Can’t let an ass like that go to waste.”) and telling him to come back; there was no begging or promises, it was a command. 

Jo, on the other hand, was less friendly. She has punched him in the chest with the strength she could muster while the tears welled up in her eyes. “Don’t you dare die, you idiot.” She whimpered and leaned up, leaving a small kiss on his cheek as he frowned and hugged her back tightly. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Jo.” He murmured and turned away to the rest of the great. Most of the village came to say goodbye; he was the famous hunter after all. 

But right now, moral support would not help him at all. After all, as he started walking and looked ahead at the darkness of his destination, he only had himself to rely on if he wanted to survive.


End file.
